


livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams

by ellalopez



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: F/F, F/M, Peraltiago, Red Queen AU, dianetti
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-08-29 00:51:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellalopez/pseuds/ellalopez
Summary: jacob "jake" peralta's life has always been easy. born with pure silver blood running through his veins, and with a promised crown in his future, he's had it all- along with his family of telkies, able to manipulate objects with their minds. he's had his fun playing chess with his uncle, to much more serious things like helping the army move bullets in the thin air. he's saved lives and lost them, and his heart can't help but want something better for the kingdom he'll rule one day.enter the queenstrial, the extravagant, unnecessary showing off of girls' abilities to win a seat on the empty throne next to him. it's there where he stumbles upon amelia "amy" santiago, a servant with an ability so different, so new that it knocks him off his feet. literally.but the colour in her cheeks isn't silver.it's red.-based off of victoria aveyard's red queen series!





	1. i. it isn't in my blood

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! i absolutely adore the world victoria aveyard created so i decided to write this au, it's actually been an idea of mine to write for a while. i hope you guys enjoy the first chapter, let me know if this is something you guys will be interested to keep reading! -lii

**HIS HEAD HURTS.**

It's not much of a surprise, really- it's his fifth headache in the past hour, and the drumming in his head only gets more annoying each time. His favourite skin healer, Terry, glances over at him in concern, his eyebrows furrowing in worry. Without a word, Terry drops the weight he's lifting, and walks over to the prince. He presses a gentle fingertip to Jake's forehead, and the tension unravels almost immediately. Jake smiles slightly, grateful- but he stares at the scar on Terry's lip, a reminder of his ability's limits. Skin healers could heal others, but not themselves. Blood healers could do the opposite. Although other skin healers offered to remove the scar, Terry refused, and that was the end of that.

"Peralta, you can ditch training and take a break, you know. Terry won't tell." Jake blinks out of his train of thought and shakes his head, grimacing. The training arena has always been one of the parts of his role as the prince he liked best, but today, it was a real pain in the ass.

"I'm alright, I swear. I don't know what's wrong with me today." Terry just nods in sympathy and goes back to his weights, leaving Jake to his own task. Truth is, he did know what was wrong- he couldn't stop thinking about his upcoming Queenstrial, where he'd have to pick a girl suitable to be his _queen._ He was barely 23, and even though he's practiced for this moment since he was born, he was, well, freaking out.

_They don't want you. They want the crown._

He remembers his mother's last words to him, her final piece of advice before she took her last breath.

_"You're so much more than a title, baby. You'll find someone that sees you the same way, I know you will. Just remember to think, alright? It's what we do."_

He tries to forget his father's.

_"The prettiest one, Jake. Make sure she's got everyone's eyes on her."_

Jake sighs, swallowing the urge to cry that always seems to come whenever he _remembers._ His beautiful, caring mother, Karen of House Peralta, the deceased Queen mourned by the entire kingdom. Constantly fighting her husband to stop the wars, to give _more_ to the Reds, and to fund more hospitals in the poorer regions.

He only listened when he was drunk to get her to stop bothering him.

When his parents both died, making him an orphan at a teen, his mentor, Raymond of House Holt, and his husband, Kevin of House Cozner, took him under their wing. Headlines from Brookledge's media outlets spewed inane garbage about the two of them being unable to raise a prince, let alone a king, but here he was, perfectly fine, except with severe daddy issues and the inability to concentrate sometimes.

Jake chases his thoughts of death, anxiety and longing away and inhales, then exhales. _Back to work, Peralta._ He can practically hear Holt scolding him.

As a telky, his training has always revolved around mental control and concentration. Clenching his teeth as he uses his mind to aim, the microscopic shards of glass miss his foam targets by inches. It wouldn't be much of a problem if you looked at it, but on the war front, where he's trying to save lives by helping his army dodge bullets, it's life or death.

Biting hard on the inside of his cheek, he tries again, and much to his relief, he hits a target dead center. He grins, wiping a sheen of sweat away from his forehead, and repeats.

He doesn't stop until his best friend, Charles, bursts through the arena doors.

"Jakey! You're late for supper and oh my God do I have the best meal for _you-"_

"Whoa, buddy. Slow down." Jake nearly launches a shard of glass into the wall, and he redirects it to the massive bucket with the others. Charles bows his head in apology.

"You're right. I should slow down. Breathe. Relax or whatever." Charles trips over his words, always trying to impress Jake, doing anything to keep their friendship. Jake stands and approaches Charles, placing a hand on his back.

"Charles Boyle. Listen to me. When I rescued you from the trenches, I saw you as more than a soldier terrified for their life. I saw you as a brilliant, smart, kind, loyal, loving individual. You're not going anywhere," Jake says firmly, looking right at his friend to make sure he understands. Charles's expression is full of gratitude, but he's still shaking a bit.

"You're the best Jake, you know that, right?"

"So you've said a million times since you've arrived. Now, what's this about the best meal for me?"

**━━━━━━━━━━━━**

"Where were you, tiger? You had me and your mother worried sick." Victor Santiago looks at his daughter expectantly, and Amy shrugs as nonchalantly as she can manage.

"Nowhere special, dad." Her parents scan her facial expression for the hint of a lie, and Amy closes her eyes, imagining herself in the very same kitchen, except with her parents with no memory of the past hour. She opens them to find them staring blankly at her, confused.

"What are you doing here, mija? Weren't you going to the park with Daniel and Diego today?"

Amy smiles, pleased that her strange, no name, declared-impossible-her-entire-life ability worked. The thought to confess what she's done itches at the edges of her mind, like it always does every time she uses it, and her smile falters. She catches herself just in time to reassure her parents.

"I changed my mind, mom. I'm going to head upstairs to read. Besides, the twins are pretty occupied." She not-so-subtly tears her gaze from them to the seven-year-old boys colouring in the corner of the living room, both of them arguing over which crayon is whose. Her parents exchange looks and wave a hand to dismiss her.

"Alright, mija. We'll call you down for dinner."

Amy releases a breath she didn't know she was holding, and makes sure to click the door shut behind her when she reaches her room.

Unable to contain her excitement any longer, she calls up an image in her head- deep, navy blue walls, a white carpet, and a black duvet. She struggles to maintain the scene, but she perseveres- she keeps dreaming, keeps on thinking, and when she opens her eyes, she's met with her current dream bedroom.

She can't keep it, of course. With her job as a servant, it would be suspicious if she was suddenly able to afford new paint and a new bedroom set. So she grumbles, upset that this is likely how it'll be for the rest of her life, and she brings back the image of her old bedroom. It all disappears in an instant, a fleeting moment of happiness she can't even hold onto.

 _One day,_ she promises herself. _One day._

_**━━━━━━━━━━━━** _

"Charles, this is _amazing."_ Jake shovels more of god-knows-what into his mouth, and although he should probably care more about the ingredients and what he's putting into his body, he doesn't. Charles beams from the praise, and both Kevin and Raymond thank him for the meal.

"Exquisite as always, Boyle." Kevin wipes his mouth with his napkin, his plate completely clean. His husband hums in agreement, his own plate cleared, and Charles looks positively thrilled.

"I'm so glad you guys like this! So, basically, what I did was-" Raymond holds his hand up to cut him off.

"All we need to know is that it tasted good. Remember what happened last time?" Halfway through a sip of water, Jake chokes, laughter escaping his throat.

"Oh my god, how can we _forget?_ Charles made these _delish_ meatballs, and they were made out of  _all_ of the parts of the pig. Didn't even miss the liver. And the sauce was made out of squid ink. That was a _classic."_

Charles blushes a scarlet red at the teasing, Kevin chuckling as he empties his wine glass. As the laughter dies down, the air grows serious, and Charles clears his throat, speaking before he can talk himself out of it.

"So, uh, Jakey, are you excited about the Queenstrial? It is in a week, after all." Jake tenses in his seat, giving Charles a look.

"Yes, Jacob, do tell. You'll be engaged in a week, surely you have some thoughts about this?" Raymond squeezes Kevin's hand, a warning in his eyes. _Don't pressure him,_ it says.

"I dunno, Kev, Charles. I'm supposed to be excited about this, but I'm mostly hella anxious. I mean, the sign-up letters went out just a few hours ago. My future wife could be writing on one _right now."_

"If we could, we'd prolong it. You know we would, Jake. But we've already pushed it with the extra 8 years." Jake nods solemnly, knowing Raymond's right. His dad's Queenstrial was at 15. He can't keep going on like this, and especially not disappoint his people when he has to win them over to ensure their support of him as king. He gnaws on his bottom lip, thinking, and stares straight at his best friend.

Abruptly, Charles levitates a few feet off the ground, and he shrieks, flailing his arms. Jake dissolves into hysterics, winking at his guardians. For now, things are right how he wants them to be.

_**━━━━━━━━━━━━** _

"Amelia Santiago!"

Her mother's voice is rough, straining against her tired vocal cords as she yells up the stairs. "We need to talk to you!"

 _That's never good news,_ Amy thinks, as she makes her way to the kitchen. Daniel and Diego's heads peep in the doorway, giggling.

"What is it, mom?" She says tentatively, her bare feet cold on the concrete tiles. _Why wasn't she wearing socks, again?_

Amy looks up, her line of vision moving to her mother. In her hands is an ivory white envelope streaked with blue and gold, the royal colours. Her father's cheeks are aglow with something. _Hope?_

"The Queenstrial letter! Isn't this fantastic, darling? They're letting higher class Reds participate now!"

_Oh, shit._


	2. ii. my dreams running into your dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from on purpose by sabrina carpenter! this introduces the other characters and their abilities, and for those that want the dianetti content, i promise you'll get some when the queenstrial starts in the next chapter!

**AMY'S** parents look at her expectantly, grinning from ear to ear. They're thrilled, imagining the possibilities of a better future for their daughter, seated and all powerful on Brookledge's throne. Amy is anything but- her mind is racing, thoughts of her ability slipping out on accident shaking her to the core. A traumatic experience from her past still haunts her, a harsh reminder of what she can do, with little control over her wild imagination.

_Lia! Lia! Up! Up! Amy's baby brother, Luis, throws his arms out at her, his huge, charcoal grey eyes begging at her to be carried. With a sigh, sixteen-year-old Amy lifts him up, and he squeals, the sound echoing in her ears. He continues to giggle as Amy walks about the room with him on her hip, her free hand busy as she organizes the living room. She squeezes her eyes shut, overcome with exhaustion and the need for a nap, and she imagines the very same living room, except with her brother elsewhere so she can rest._

_When she opens her eyes, Luis is gone._

It's been five years since her brother disappeared.

At sixteen, unknown of the powers she possessed, she thought he just slipped out of her grasp and ran away. After realizing what she could do, and desperately trying to call him back with her memory, she's failed miserably with every attempt. He's grown now, she's sure, wherever he is, and that must be why she can't- he looks different, and she doesn't know, doesn't remember.

"Amy, sweetheart, are you alright?" Her mother stares at the single tear rolling down her cheek, and Amy musters up a smile, wiping the tear away.

"I'm fine, Mom. I'm just... shocked."  _That's an understatement._ Despite having worked for the royal family for a decade, she's never been inside the palace walls for more than a few hours at a time, and to be invited to fight for the position of  _queen_ is overwhelming. She snaps back to attention and approaches her mother. "Can I read the letter?"

"Of course, mija." Her mother passes her the envelope, and Amy tears it open, sliding out the card. She reads aloud, and her parents hang on her every word.

"A tradition passed down from generation to generation. A Brookledge honour. House Peralta's Queenstrial is coming up, and if you qualify, you do not want to miss it. The rules are as follows: You must be between 19 to 25 years of age. Any gender can participate (our deepest apologies- we cannot change the name of the trial). You must be of silver blood, or be a higher class Red- royal service, involved in Silver trade, or a former army member. We await your attendance, and RVSP by completing the form attached and mailing it to the address below. No entries will be accepted after August 12th, which is this Sunday. The Queenstrial will commence on the next day. Best of luck, Sir Raymond of House Holt and Sir Kevin of House Cozner."

Amy does her best to hide her pride, a fingertip gently tracing over the words 'Any gender can participate'. She thinks of her ex-girlfriend, Isabella, her piercing green eyes in another country, but her spirit will always occupy a piece of her heart. It's funny how they got together- they were both running for high school valedictorian, and instead of hating each other, the competition and endless nervous flirting brought them closer. Isabella's apprenticeship as an engineer got her relocated to a country with better conditions for industrial work- and if she didn't follow and continue to work for her master, she would have been conscripted to the army at 18. She recalls the goodbye kiss, hidden behind the giant oak tree by her house, and the taste of cigarettes and mint on her lips.

She misses her, but she knows she's out there building factories and doing what she does best. And as of right now, Amy knows she needs to press play on the future she's been holding herself back from. With gathered courage, she turns back to her parents and hands the envelope back.

"Sign me up."

_**━━━━━━━━━━━━** _

"Regina, baby girl, you're going to be queen!"

Gina of House Linetti glances up from the choreography she's sketching out to raise an eyebrow at her mother, Darlene, who's waving an incredibly bland envelope in the air like it's a lottery ticket. With their ability as Silks, their enhanced agility, speed, and coordination makes it hard for Gina to focus on the whirlwind of her mother. She's twirling around the room, her feet barely touching the ground as she spins from wall to wall, and Gina sighs, placing down her pencil and sketchbook.

"What makes you think that, Mom?" Darlene stops mid-pirouette to gaze lovingly at her daughter, her arm outstretched towards Gina with the envelope in her palm.

"This, darling, is the Queenstrial letter. Go on, open it. Pass me the form when you're done so I can fill it out and get you into the competition." Gina slices open the envelope with precision, her nails polished with their house colours, dark purple and red. It's always been her dream to rule, but somehow, getting married to a boy she barely knows doesn't sit right with her. Still, she lets her mother sign the form, her handwriting as graceful as can be, and she even kisses the letter for good measure. Darlene calls over their maid, and gives her the directions to mail the letter, all while Gina pictures herself in a crown- a crown of a stranger's.

She kind of feels bad for him, _the_ Prince Jacob that was born into all this, being forced to pick a suitable partner based on pure talent. But it's all about power for their kind, she knows that. As long as the Reds know they're the minority, and that the Silvers reign. Even with the royal family's best efforts to help out Reds, there's a lot of war left to fight, and a long-built division to dissolve.

"...I bet the inside of the palace is absolutely gorgeous, much prettier than the photos in the news. Aren't you excited? I already have redecoration ideas..." Her mom throws out suggestion after suggestion, and Gina picks up her sketchbook to finish the choreography she was working on. She waves her hand at her beaming mother, standing up to head to her room.

"I'll be training, Mom." Darlene drops into a joking curtsy, winking at her.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

_**━━━━━━━━━━━━** _

Pulling into House Diaz's stupid cobblestone driveway, Rosa takes off her helmet and her wavy black hair spills out to cover her shoulders. She checks her watch- oh, _of course_ she's late- and she curses, strings of swear words muffled under her breath. Her boots scuff against the sidewalk as she approaches their front door, and it's there where she sees the famous royal stationery stuffed into their mailbox. She grabs it, kicking it under their doormat, and strides into the kitchen, head held high. "Mom. Dad." She gets two subtle nods in return and starts taking off her boots.

"Did we get any mail?" Her mother, Julia, finally asks, breaking the silence. Rosa keeps her cool, the piece of barbed wire in her pocket moulding to her touch.

"No."

Her mother's eyes narrow at her, and Rosa doesn't flinch. "It's Monday and Queenstrial registration week. Are you sure the mailbox is empty?" She presses, and Rosa clenches her teeth and says nothing. Julia gets up from her armchair, the iron surrounding her gleaming, taunting her. "I'll be back."

No less than five minutes later, Julia returns, holding up a dirt-speckled envelope, clearly coloured blue and gold. There's an unreadable expression on her face- she knows damn well Silvers like them don't get mail handled so roughly, and she glares daggers at her daughter. "If this is the Queenstrial letter, you can say goodbye to your motorcycle privileges for the next week."

Rosa bites down sharply on her tongue, drawing metallic blood, to keep herself from protesting. Rosa's father, Oscar, acts like he doesn't hear and flips to the next page of his newspaper. "Go ahead, mother."

Without blinking, her mother twists the spikes on her studded bracelet into a flat, sharp blade. She cuts open the envelope with ease, and she moulds the metal back into its original shape when she's finished.

As magnetrons of House Diaz, their ability to manipulate metal is simply one of the deadliest and most valuable on a battlefield. Growing up surrounded by danger, Rosa's trained herself to become cold, guarded, and untrusting- especially of her own family. Their cousins are Whispers, able to manipulate, read, and sometimes fully control the minds of people within their reach. They can get inside your head without you knowing, and invade your thoughts and memories.

Rosa remembers sobbing, cradling her head as she ran as far as she could from her cousin Xander, who was poking and prying to find out who she was dating. She wasn't ready, wasn't  _out,_ and yet Xander and his malicious, evil family had access to nearly every secret she's ever had. Luckily, Rosa gained enough speed to lose him and bend the armour she wore into a helmet, making it even harder for him to get in. He gave up, and Rosa locked away and buried deep the tender memories of her and her now ex-girlfriend for good.

"...As I suspected, the Queenstrial letter. Your keys, please." Julia looks triumphant, and with a heavy sigh, Rosa hands her the keys to her motorcycle. Her mother remoulds them, and Rosa hides her smirk, the only copy of the key's blueprints hidden in a safe in her room. She could make a new pair in a few days.

Her mother skims the rest of the letter, and her lips pucker in distaste. "Letting any gender  _and_ Reds participate? It's the boy's guardians, corrupting him to allow this. Dear Lord, our country is falling apart." Oscar hums in agreement, and Rosa wants to yell at them to shut up.

An idea comes to her then, one that could mean getting away from this family and their disgusting beliefs for even a little while, and she stares straight at her mother.

"You know what, Mom? I'll do it."

_**━━━━━━━━━━━━** _

"Jake, try this."

Charles waves a tiny spoon in front of Jake's face, a piece of gourmet chocolate cake on it. Jake accepts it graciously, and his face lights up when he tastes it. "This is  _so good,_ Boyle. It beats my now former favourite flavour, Blue, by a million points." Charles beams in satisfaction, and he cuts a large slice and sets it on a plate for Jake.

"Don't tell Holt," he warns, and Jake gives him a sly look.

"Only if you add in some gummy bears." Charles shakes his head, thinking of the consequences of his friend's health.

"Take it or leave it, Jakey." The prince begrudgingly accepts, but he's smiling, using his ability to grab a fork and stab it into his cake. As he chews, absentmindedly moving the fork to shovel more cake into his mouth, Charles flutters around the room, scolding at his assistants to pipe the icing a certain way. Without realizing, Jake loses his hold on the fork and it clatters to the ground, causing him to jolt in surprise. Charles rushes over to pick it up for him, but Jake beats him to it, the fork hovering in midair once more.

"Charles, I've got it. Get the cake done, alright? You have a long week ahead of you, the Queenstrial is next Monday." With that, Jake shudders, and Charles nods, knowing how important this is.

"It's going to go so well, Jake. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Jake smiles slightly, not quite believing it, but he's grateful nonetheless. A part of him is excited- he'll get to interact with the guests and meet new people, instead of the same old palace workers for the past two decades. Change was coming, and he hoped it was for the better- and that he'd be able to prove himself as more than the orphaned prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, feedback is appreciated! -lii

**Author's Note:**

> i would really appreciate your feedback! thank you so much for reading :)


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